Day fifteen of NaPoWriMo. At the halfway mark of the month, the prompt is to write a poem about the nature of being in the middle of something.
The middle of the road is the last place,
You want to be at, any time of day.
You would think that most people know this well.
You can’t always find a zebra crossing,
Once you have found, your job is far from done.
You wait for a lull, when the traffic’s thick.
Scouting the horizon to spot some space.
There’s always that moment, where you’re not sure,
To advance or retreat, to dash or stop.
The shorter shuffle when you get confused,
Or frozen in the middle, going nowhere.
It’s tough for the person behind the wheel,
To make snap decisions, slow down or not.
Be forced to swerve or stop the next moment,
To stop and risk the wrath of those behind.